Shadowboxing
by Curiouser-and-Curiouser101
Summary: Instead of the accusing thirteen year old, or the sappy six year old she was the tired fifteen year old and Dean isn't sure how to handle it. Bringing her on the road with him after two years of absence is bound to uncover some secrets though.
1. Chapter 1

Shadowboxing

"_Now I've spent most of my life riding waves, playing acrobat, shadowboxing the other half."_

He sunk a bit deeper into the ratty green sofa when he heard the door slowly unlock. He felt the anger and mixed relief rushing through his veins as he watched her calmly turn around and lock the door back. She walked past the living room, and he smirked. This is why she never would be a good hunter. Too unobservant, too self-absorbed.

That is until her footsteps slowed on the stairs and she called over her shoulder, "You could say hello, it is considered polite, or so I've heard. Then again however, so it coming to see your daughter more than once every few years. I'll be back in a few minutes."

He heard Archer speaking quietly to her aunt; he couldn't decipher the words, just the comforting undertone and Alyssa's spacey voice. Not being able to hear the voices he began looking around, natural hunter instinct you could call it. The rooms were sparse, and the smell was dank, but had an undertone of febreeze, as if someone had tried to cover then stench then stopped bothering when they realized it was pointless. All the furniture was ragged, and the sagging coffee table was covered in old magazines and bounced checks. He was just about to sneak down the hall to his kid's room when the stomping footsteps of Archer's combat boots caught his attention.

She moved around the kitchen purposefully. First putting coffee on, and then starting some eggs in a pan, clearly a routine. For once in two years he finally got a good look at her, those school pictures Alyssa sent him didn't really do. She was still small, short for her age, from her mother he insisted to himself. Her hair was his brown, maybe a little darker; he couldn't say he knew it well enough to tell. Her eyes, though, he knew. His mother's deep, striking blue. She dressed simply, white t-shirt and plain black jeans.

"So what happened this time? Hunt in town? Abnormally pissed over my B in Physics? Spill so we can get this over with." Her voice was different too. Instead of the accusing thirteen year old, or the sappy six year old, she was the tired fifteen year old.

"Alyssa was worried, she said you've been sneaking out a lot. She really didn't know where you were this time. Want to explain that, Archer?" She cringed at the name, she had always hated it. Not that Dean could say he was partial to it either, but Alexandria had been insistent, and hell if he cared about the kid's name.

"To be fair, Alyssa wasn't really _here_ either," he tone was carefully measure as her hand holding the plastic spoon quickly scrambled the eggs. "There's only so much I can do during the high, the after I can handle." She made a small gesture to the plate of eggs now on a tray beside a glass of water and a cup of coffee.

If he was surprised, which he was, he certainly didn't show it. This time however, he did follow her back to Alyssa's room and he was inwardly shocked with what he found. The needles were kept neatly on a table along with a few bags, but the rest of the room was in disarray. Alyssa was in the middle of it all in the twin sized bed, looking half dead.

"Hey Auntie, I got you something, it should help you feel better," Archer's tone took on a soft, almost gentle comforting tone that he didn't know she was capable of. The expected revulsion creeped up his throat. His daughter's supposed guardian had reversed the roles, and daughter followed father in the family history of taking care of parental figures.

Alyssa reached out to slap her and angrily screeched, but Archer just calmly backed out of reach. Another routine. A smile was plastered on her face and Dean reached out to grab her shoulder and pull her from the room. Through gritted teeth she ordered him to let go. Again she approached her aunt and set the food down, this time with little to no trouble.

"Eat it all, I'll come get the plates later Aunt Alyssa. I'm sorry I worried you tonight." She gently hugged the woman who had moments ago lunged at her before leaving the room. She stopped at her own room, quickly kicking off her boots into the dark then shutting the door quickly. Dean followed her into the living room again, since his authoritarian stance he planned on coming in with had slowly seeped away.

"So, what is it you're here for again, Dean?" Archer picked up the bills that lay in an off-kilter stack on the table. She flipped through them, trying to project an air of nonchalance.

"You know why, little girl," the worry came to the forefront again and he quietly seethed.

"Hmm… yes you told me you were _worried_, while a likely story I have to say I don't quite follow. You see the past two years much worse things have happened than me spending a night out, so frankly I know that's a pile of bull_shit_."

Ha, there was the little girl. She used to always over-emphasize the curse words, just to try and piss him off, because of that one time he told her that cursing wasn't okay.

"Well, _Auntie_ Alyssa up there hasn't really reported those to me," his tone leaked sarcasm, since that was the only way he could get feeling across.

"Yes, well her work keeps her busy," her voice was deadpan and if the situation wasn't so bad he would have laughed.

Sighing he rubbed a hand across his forehead. "Where were you, Archer Marie?"

"Out," she gave the typical teenager response quickly.

"Kid, do I need to remind you what happens when you push it a bit too far?" He raised an eyebrow and only a light blush spreading across her face was her response to the question.

"Where were you Archer Marie Winchester?" The full name came out and Dean hoped she knew that he was serious for once.

"Downtown, me and a few friends were hanging _out_." Brat, half-affectionately, half-irritated, he thought.

"Who were these friends?"

"You might know them if you stuck around. Gracen, James, and Tara." She still flipped through bills, but for a moment he saw her eyes flash up and glance at him, as if hoping that he would know the names and derive some information from them.

"Why couldn't you hang out with them tomorrow?"

"Busy."

He took a deep breath. Don't throttle the girl, Dean, just don't.

"Why didn't you tell me about Alyssa?"

She laughed, she fucking laughed to a point where Dean was considering getting her to a hospital. "Oh god, _that's_ a good one. Do you even know why I don't call you?" She carried on, not giving him a chance to answer. "You're never fucking here, Dean, you don't care. You left me here and you haven't visited since the blowout we had when I was a fucking kid. You don't know me, I don't know you and the only reason I'm not calling the police to report a stranger breaking and entering into my home is because the phone has been out for months."

He hadn't even bothered to wonder why Alyssa had frantically called him from a payphone. Now he just stared at Archer, contemplating. Yeah, he had been a dick. He had abandoned his kid and he knew it had hurt her, but however cliché it was it was for the best. Demons were still on his fucking tail and he couldn't drag that shit to her, and truth be told the both of them mixed like oil and water, matches and gasoline. She wanted a daddy who would hug her, and always say 'I love you' and get a nice house where they would live together and he could take her to school every morning, and he just couldn't really do that. He loved her, but he had other family to protect too.

Deciding quickly, her blue eyes boring into him making him finally push himself to say the words, "Go pack, Archer, you're not staying here anymore. We're leaving in the morning."


	2. Chapter 2

I know he expects me throw a tantrum. Like when I was little, when I thought my ear-piercing screech would keep him here instead of drive him away. I have to make up my mind quickly, because a night isn't enough.

"Give me a week," I say, still trying to hold on to the disinterest, but the bills are officially abandoned. It's not like I'll ever be able to catch up on them anyway. There's no point in saying I won't go, he'll just force me to in the end, because like a five year old, Dean always has to get his way.

"I don't have a week, kid. Go get packed," he tips his head back, leaning further into the couch and closing his eyes. Dismissal. Again.

"Then you don't have me." Cheesy, I scold myself lightly, and a bit too emotional.

He wanders through some rant that sounds like a complete carbon copy of something John would say, but Dean isn't quite that good at lecturing. At the point when he reminds me that he's "the father here", I want to cut in. Deny it all, but the little girl in me won't go with it.

"Look, I need three days. I need to pack, get a school transcript, and sort out Alyssa. You may not have responsibilities, Dean, but some of us do." I don't want a response from him, so I leave back to my room. He doesn't follow, because for the amount of times he says I don't have the guts to be a hunter I could tell him twice over that he doesn't have the guts to be a father.

The light stutters, but flips on, revealing the dark blue walls of my OCD organized room and Gracen. I figured he would be here; the demon blood gives him pretty intense visions.

"What happened, Red?"

I wince. His voice is gruff, and pissed. Great. "My dad showed up, Grace. It's not a big deal. I'll get out of here before three days are out and he won't bother to look."

"Why didn't you use your powers? I told you not to let people push you around like that, Red." As if to juxtapose his words he forcefully pushes me against the wall, no hands used of course.

"He's my _father_, Gracen. I can't pull shit like that with him, you know that." I gasp the words through the constricting force on my chest.

"He's one of _them_, Red! He wants to kill us, he wants to hunt us down and torture us, Red. You're not even exempt from his kind. Hell, with you being what you are, you'd be a fucking trophy!"

I want to toss the words back in his face, but I can't. He's right. I'd be a trophy, my ashes kept in a damn vase on the mantle.

"I'll do better Grace, I promise, please," I gasp again. Pathetic.

He repeats my internal description of myself and lets my body slump to the floor. Just then I hear Dean's boot stomps move down the hall.

"Archer, what the hell is going on in there?" His voice booms and I feel the burning in my palms as Gracen looks on in approval. He knows what I'm feeling. When he turned demon he killed his baby sister by accident. He now takes in people like me, like James and Tara, and trains us. He helps us along and tells us to use our powers, to not hold back because of a few hunters. Funnily enough, I'm kind of like his trophy. A hunter's daughter, turned supernatural creature and I'm all his to create into something new. I let him because there's no one else. Everyone else turns tail and runs when I reveal what I am.

Dean's voice shouts from the hall again, and I want to scold him. Tell him Alyssa is sleeping, and I don't want to deal with her shit right now. Gracen gives me a nod that conveys too many messages and then goes over to use the fire escape to leave, because for all his demon qualities, he really doesn't like confrontations, he prefers his minions do his dirty work when it comes to hunters.

Before I can really collect myself and move from the floor, Dean barges in. His hand is at his waistband where I know a gun is kept and I hear Gracen's voice in my head. "_All a hunter wants is to kill you, Red. He wants to watch you burn. He wants to watch the bullet enter your brain and the light leave your eyes. We have to get to them first_, _Red. We have to."_

I'm tempted to raise my hand and end it all, it would be a release and after all he wanted me dead anyway. But then the niggling little conscience in my brain reminds me.

"_Daddy!" I screeched, running at him at top speed. _

_He laughed, picking me up and spinning me around, "Hey sweetheart." He kissed the top of my head and strapped me into the car. I loved that he told me I was big enough to not need a car seat. _

_When he put me into bed that night after giving me his old ACDC t-shirt to wear, he told me he loved me and wouldn't be gone as long this time. Momentarily I forgot that the kids at school teased me because I didn't have a daddy or a mommy, and I wore torn clothes, and my aunt was crazy, and crazy was genetic so I was too. I forgot it all, and promised him I would wait for him, because I just knew he was going to be back soon and he would live with me and Auntie Alyssa and we would all be fine._

Childish. Stupid, childish fantasies that I no longer indulge in because there's no point. But I can't kill him. I could kill any other hunter, but not him. At least I think I could, I've never really tested that little theory.

"It was nothing, Dean. I fell." I say the words easily; because frankly lying about a boy being in my room isn't the worst I've misled him about.

He eyes me critically for too long. Finally, he gives a short nod, and I hope to god he doesn't hear my quiet sigh of relief.


	3. Chapter 3

Honest to God, I hate this car. I hate it so goddamn much. The faint rumble of the engine, the soft leather seats, and the little jumble sound the air conditioner makes when it's turned on too high, because of that damn Lego I shoved in the vent when I was six. Dean and his loud music beside me probably isn't helping my mood much either, and my two duffle bags are a bit depressing.

Okay, so maybe I can't blame the damn car for this one, but as whiny and typical as it sounds I still would rather be almost anywhere else. I should have just stayed. James and Tara would have forgiven me.

_One day ago…_

I claimed my school transcript was necessary as a distraction the day before, was now lying on the table next to the couch, which Dean was sleeping on. I decide to forgo the combat boots tonight, because the loud stomps would have woken him up. Converse tied tight and a jacket thrown on, I entered the cool Seattle night air, wishing once again I had taken Gracen up on his offer to _convince_ someone into giving me their car.

The walk would only have taken twenty minutes if I had taken the shortcut, but I wasn't up for alleyways tonight. The warehouse where we meet is just outside of the city, maybe a mile or so. It wasn't anything special, it was small and dank but nobody else bothered with it and it was a good place for James to hole up when it got too rough to be around people.

I knocked in our pattern. We each had one, Morse code for our name. The door flew open and Tara stared back at me with a grin, James not too far behind her.

"Red!" Tara's voice was perky and happy, as always. She was the only cheery one between the four of us.

"Hey, Tarry, Jay." I nodded to each individually and they returned it. Both were younger than me and it showed. Little Tara is twelve, and Jay is fourteen. She's a shifter and he's a vamp.

I continued with Tara's small talk for a while, barely paying attention but enough for the kid to continue with her cheery chatter. It wasn't until she mentioned Gracen that my head snapped up from the rotten piece of rope in my hands I was twisting and knotting.

"What was that, Tara?"

She sighed at having to repeat herself, but said, "Gray should be here soon, he mentioned that he would be here tonight!"

"That's good, Tara." I had given a nod of consent and she continued with her mindless talking. Internally I was sprinting around to form a coherent thought that wasn't an expletive. _Gracen._ He would kill me, I hadn't finished the job. I never finished the job. Even Tara had killed her fair share of hunters, but I just couldn't. Dean, though, he hated. Gracen wanted Dean dead more than the rest. Maybe it's because of his reputation for killing demons or maybe it's some personal vendetta against Dean, because of me. Killing the people who have hurt me is Gracen's way of letting me know that, deep down, he loves me. It's twisted, but isn't everything about our relationship? Everything is so convoluted and destructive that I barely can keep up and that's the way he likes it.

My thoughts were interrupted by the variation of long and short knocks on the door. Tara squeals and runs to the door, practically pulling him in. Gracen picks her up and spins her around, laughing freely. It was a good day, I suppose, for him. Dead bodies and blood, I'm sure. He comes over to me after placing Tara back on her feet, and he kisses me sweetly until both kids shriek in horror.

Letting free another laugh, Gracen's face remains relaxed. The sharp lines from earlier eased from his soft features, blonde hair a disarrayed mess, and blue eyes full of light. He's the Gracen I love. After exchanging jokes with both kids, he turns to me and murmurs, "Did you finish the job, babe?" hope glints in his eyes and a darker part of me wishes I could say yes.

"Gray…" I always call him that when I know I've disappointed him. It fits. Red and Gray.

His features immediately darken and along with him, the atmosphere of the room seems to stiffen. "Tara, James, go on outside." I order and they start to follow my instructions. They knew of our fights, but like parents on the verge of divorce with little kids, I never let them witness.

"No. Stay _right _there_._" they freeze at Gracen's tone.

He stands up towering over me even more than usual. "What the _hell_ Archer?" he's pissed, he used _Archer_, my brain frantically warned.

"Gracen, he's my dad, I can't just…"

"Yes, you can _Archer_. You know what he is!"

I remained quiet, staring at him from my new position on my feet.

He turned to Tara and James, who were only seconds from fleeing. "Did Red over here ever tell you? She didn't did she?" they visibly quaked. "Red over here has a _hunter _for a _daddy_, and she become a _traitor _last night when she let him _live_, didn't she?"

Both kids looked to me in hopes that I would deny it. I couldn't. They instantly turned cold. It was in their training to do so.

The beating lasted for what seemed like hours, because though my powers provided me eternity and healing capabilities, I am useless when it comes to matters of pure strength against a demon. I can shoot and stab, but it's hopeless against him.

I came into the house beat, bruised, and bleeding. Dean stared for only a moment before barraging me with questions. I simply stared, non-responsive. He finally stopped. He stared at me a while longer, as if judging me quietly, then he simply said we were leaving in the morning.

"Archer!" Deans snaps my name out, jolting me from my memory.

"What?" I'm tired. I'm tired, I'm sick of being here, and I'm worried about Alyssa, Tara, and James. Alyssa, because she's being subjected to the hospital's harsh cold turkey policy on drugs and Tara and James because they're being subjected to Gracen's fury. He won't take my leaving well.

"What do you want to eat?" he gestures to the drive thru line. McDonald's. Nice.

"Not hungry." I go back to staring out the window.

"You're already thin enough as it is, kid. What do you want to eat?"

I don't reply, because goddamnit I just want to be moody and difficult.

Still when we reach the front of the line he orders, "One bacon cheeseburger and one regular cheeseburger, both with a side of fries and two cokes."

I glare when he shoves the food in my lap. "I'm not hungry, Dean."

Ignoring my comment, he replies, "You know, that's not what you used to call me." it comes out almost as a taunt but I hear a slight twinge of longing in his voice and I almost real back in disgust. I haven't called him the "D" word since I was twelve.

"Don't even bring that up," I lace my tone with enough revulsion to make him drop it.

I sigh once more, and watch the road signs fly by.

Twenty miles to Sioux Falls.


End file.
